


Till the Last Breath

by thisisvaleri



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Harry Styles Loves Louis Tomlinson, Larry Stylinson Is Real, Louis Tomlinson Loves Harry Styles, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-03 01:06:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19453222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisisvaleri/pseuds/thisisvaleri
Summary: Touch. To feel the warmth of a loved one is sometimes as necessary as the air we breathe. It's something we can't live without. Touch keeps memory. Sometimes it doesn't last as long as we'd like.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you will like it ;)

**Touch. To feel the warmth of a loved one is sometimes as necessary as the air we breathe. It's something we can't live without. Touch keeps memory. Sometimes it doesn't last as long as we'd like. Touching reveals too much about a person. When we love someone, it's vital to feel their touch: whether it's a light touch of the fingers, which causes thousands of sparks across the skin or touch, from which the body seemed to burn in the fire. Sometimes we need a strong embrace to be so close that you feel safe and at peace breathing in their familiar smell. However sometimes we don’t have the opportunity to touch the one we love. As much as we want, as much as we desperately need one fleeting touch… All we have is five feet between us.**

*******

Neat piles of clothes are laid out on the bed: jeans, a pair of sweaters that never come in handy (the weather in Los Angeles is always warm), a few pajama pants, underwear and a variety of t-shirts. The sheer amount of t-shirts is impressive. Next to them are a laptop, charger, iPad, several new leather-bound diaries, some stationery and a huge cosmetic bag with face and body care products. Once again, after carefully inspecting the room and checking that everything is prepared for the trip, Harry carefully puts his clothes in a suitcase that lies on the floor by the bed. After folding all the things and securing them with straps, he adds to the suitcase a few pairs of shoes.

"Harry?" someone calls behind him.

He turns around and sees his mother standing in the doorway holding a small Teddy bear. She is wearing a light summer floor-length dress with a floral print.

"Have you forgotten anything?" Anne asks, handing him the toy.

"Muuum" moans Harry, and turns away, burying his fingers through his long hair. "I'm not sixteen anymore, Jesus."

“Harry” she calls softly.

He turns around and can't help but smile a little. She looks at him with a cunning look in her eyes. This woman has always been inimitable.

"But you always took him with you, honey" she says, waving the bear in front of his face.

"I know, but what do you think people will think when they see a twenty-three-year-old boy with a stuffed toy?" he laughs.

"Why are you starting to worry about what other people think of you again?"

"I don't care about it.…"

"Gemma gave it to you the first time you left so you wouldn't be lonely and scared."

"I know," he sighs, holding out his hand to the bear, trying to ward off memories that swarm circling in his head. "Well, Mr. Bear, ready to go with me again in an unforgettable adventure?"

"Are you packed?" Anne asks, sitting down on the bed next to her son.

"Yeah, it's not my first time. I'm kind of a veteran of this."

"It's not funny" she says, sighing heavily.

"I'm lucky I can still do it."

"Don't say that, it's awful."

"But it's true, mom" he says, getting out of bed and putting Mr. Bear in his suitcase. "Not everyone can say they lived to be twenty-three."

"You can be really annoying sometimes, you know that?" Anne says, sighing heavily and walking over to him.

"But you still love me..."

Harry always just laughed it off, not really understanding what he was laughing at. Ever since he found out that he was sick, Harry tries not to give it much importance, otherwise the thoughts in his head might just kill him. He tries to look positively at everything that happens to him, but this behavior almost always upsets his mother. Harry doesn't want her to be sad or even upset her more, so he tries to be a little more serious in her presence.

Harry closes the suitcase and, pushing up the handle, rolls up to the door. Turning, he reaches for the bag that lies on the bedside table and throws it over his shoulder.

"Are you alright?" his mother asks him gently, touching his shoulder reassuringly.

"Yes," he says, putting on the oxygen tube and adjusting the portable cylinder in the bag. "As usual."

His movement was automatic. Harry slowly brings the receiver to his nose, tucks it behind his ears and covers it with his hair. He doesn't like when people can see it, though he can't hide it.

"Oh, by the way, I have something for you," Anne says. "I left my bag in the hallway, let's go."

While she's looking for something, Harry walks around the apartment, checking to see if all the windows are closed, if the water and electricity are turned off. The bright and warm atmosphere makes it very homely. He loves his apartment, small but cozy. Bright, warm atmosphere makes it very pleasant. Harry had always dreamt of his own apartment, so his parents got one for his twentieth birthday. He said that if he lived to be twenty, he wanted his own corner. Mom didn't appreciate the joke, of course. But he was twenty three, he's still alive and he has his own corner.

"Here you are," she says, holding out a small packet when he returns to the hallway.

"What is it?" he is interested, looking inside. "Oh, please."

Harry laughs out loud when he pulls out a set of hair bands: all different colors and even one rainbow. He can't help smiling.

"Are you serious, mom?"

"Honey, your hair... It's so long." she laughs.

"Thank you" thanks Harry, pulling his mom in for yet another hug and still chuckling softly.

A slight coughing fit overtakes him as Harry inhales the slightly pungent scent of perfume that wraps around her hair. How he hates all this! He brings his elbow to his mouth, drowning out his cough.

"Need a ride?" he asks, pulling away from mom and trying to contain the attack.

"No, I still have some business nearby, so I'm going to walk" she looks at him excitedly, but doesn't say anything else.

Together they leave the apartment and head towards the elevator. Harry turns around, looks at his door one last time, and sighs sadly as the elevator begins to descend.

He throws his suitcase and a small bag on the back seat of the car, turns to his mother and smiles.

"Are you ready?" she asks.

"I'm in anticipation." he laughs, holding out his hand. "Sorry, no hugging. Your perfume.…"

"It’s okay honey, I understand." she smiles at him. "I'll come to see you early next week" Anne says, and squeezes his hand, warm and so dear.

"Okay, I'll be waiting."

"Love you."

"I love you too." Harry says, getting in the car and starting the engine.

*******

Cystic fibrosis. Not everyone knows about this disease, although it is the most common among hereditary diseases. Its effects the lungs. That means one day you'll just stop breathing. It's over. The cure for this disease has not yet been found, and all that medicine can do now is to keep you alive long enough until your turn in the list for lung donations. But even in the best case, after transplantation, you have only 5-10 years, before the new lungs stop working. In addition to breathing problems cystic fibrosis causes problems with the gastrointestinal tract. So most patients, as a rule are quite thin.

This disease has different stages: mild, medium and severe. If people are in the final stages most patients have about 20 years to live. Lucky as a terminally ill person can be, he has an easy stage. Several times a year he comes to the Central hospital, which has long become his second home, where he is treated.

Treatment in this case is too big as a word, so Harry prefers to call his pastime here unplanned _business trip_. Everything in this hospital is so familiar that he knows all the staff of his Department, all the workers from the cafeteria on the first floor, as well as the sellers of nearby shops. All this helps a lot, but every time he packs his things to the clinic, Harry can't help but think that this time may be the last for him.

After parking at the hospital, where he was allocated a special place "regular customer" (thanks to the head of Department), Harry picks up his luggage from the back seat and goes to the entrance. On the street is familiar to Los Angeles heat, scorching the street, but the ocean blows a pleasant wind, encouraging his long curly hair. Perhaps, now Harry is glad of his mom's gift. He goes straight to the elevator, simultaneously pulling out of the pocket of the bag medical mask with the image of the Hello Kitty emblazoned on the front. When the elevator doors open on the right floor, he goes to the reception.

"And who do we have here?!" he hears a voice behind him and turns around, already knowing who he will see.

"Mary" he exclaims joyfully, opening his arms for a hug. "Miss me?"

"You? Of course! About your staying here - no," she laughs and hugs Harry.

Mary has been the head nurse in this department for as long as Harry can remember. This is a middle-aged woman (he doesn’t know the exact age, she evades the answer each time he asks); her light brown hair is always neatly collected in a low bun.

Her hug was warm and comforting as usual and Harry love Mary always seems to smell like baking. She explains it by the fact that her husband works in a bakery near here, and every time before work comes, she comes for fresh croissants.

"And I'm glad to see you."

Mary lets Harry out of her arms. She goes behind the Desk and starts looking for something in the papers on the table.

"Julie, have you seen Harry Styles' folder? I remember leaving it here."

Julie was always on shift with Mary and sat in the nurse's station. This is a tall, athletic, but graceful woman with long blond hair, which she always puts in a high ponytail.

"I put it over there," she says, and points to the table where the printer is. "Today there were newcomers; we filled in questionnaires so I moved it out for safe.

"Thank you," Mary says, reaching for the folder.

Harry leaned against the counter, watching the nurse type something on the computer, and waiting for him to be able to go into his hospital room.

"Well, Mr. Rock Star" calls him Mary. "Let's go."

"Hey!" Harry pretends to be indignant. "Just because I have long hair doesn't mean I'm a rocker or anything."

"Then maybe a hippie?" suggests the woman while they go to the ward.

"Mary, what's the cliché? I thought better of you."

"Nothing honey, you'll survive," she says, opening the door to the room and handing him the key.

"A very risky statement, I want to tell you. Maybe I won't survive, everything will depend on the level of my disappointment and how much these two birds have left to work" Harry says and rubs his collarbone, where out of the t-shirt with a deep V-neck, where is the tattoo of two swallows.

"Oh, again your jokes, Harry," she says indignantly but a faint smile still appears on her lips.

"You love my jokes" laughs Harry, passing for Mary in room and putting suitcase and a bag on bed. "They're amazing.

"They're terrible and you know that."

"And because they are terrible, that’s why they are beautiful."

Mary puts the folder aside and looks at him reproachfully.

"What?" Harry asks, taking off his shoes, climbing into his favorite chair with his feet, and pulling off his mask.

"Your medications." not commenting on his words, says Mary. "They're all laid out in days and weeks, but if something's wrong, you can always fix it the way you want."

Harry nods to her without any words.

"Well, nothing new for you. Physical activities, meals, treatments and other stuffs. As usual, it's not for me to tell you." Mary laughs.

"Sometimes I think I can be a doctor." says Harry, getting up from his chair and starting to unpack. "Or I could help the new patients."

"You know very well that's impossible.

"Yes, I know" he sighs sadly, putting his laptop and tablet on the table.

"But talking about new ones" Mary smiles. "We have reinforcements. So you can visit them today."

"Oh, really?" Harry exclaims, turning to the nurse.

"Yes, they're lovely."

Left alone in the room, he finishes putting his things in their usual places. Looking around the room, he notices that something is missing. Oh right! Guitar! He left it in the trunk of the car. Hastily shod in sneakers and pulling the mask on his face, Harry jumps out of the room and a rapid step towards the elevator. Along the way, he hears a loud ringing voice coming from a room not far from his own, but a little closer to the nurses ' station. Walking past, Harry notices a boy standing with his back to him and laughs very loudly, tilting the head back. He is wearing a hat, but it seems that at some point it may simply fall from his head. The guy standing in the company of two more people, and Harry, deciding not to focus on the new visitor decides to just pass by, but with all his customary grace crashed into the stands at the elevator cart, dropping from it a good of a half cards and medical devices. Throughout the corridor, the noise spreads, attracting attention.

"Harry, be careful" shouts Julie, just being close and helping to raise everything off the floor. "Where are you in such a hurry?"

"I'm sorry" he says apologetically. "I left my guitar in the car."

"That's no reason to run around the hospital corridors like a madman" she laughs, putting the last folder on the cart and rolling it back to the front desk. "I'll get it out of harm's way."

"Hey, I'm not as clumsy as you think I am" he says, pretending her words hit him hard.

"The theatre isn't yours, Harry" Julie laughs and sits down in her chair.

"I'm deeply offended" he says, stepping into the elevator.

"You'll get over it," she says.

"Hey, it is a conspiracy? All of you." Harry laughs, catching Julie's puzzled look as the elevator doors close.

He goes to his car, opens the trunk and pulls out a guitar in a hard case, almost completely covered with sticky stickers. Putting the car on the alarm, Harry goes back to the hospital.

Already on the floor again, he notices that guy. He closes the door of his room and heads to Harry. He's still wearing his hat, which is strange considering the hot weather and the fact that they're indoors. Now Harry might consider his black sweat pants, the cuffs of which are tucked in, exposing his slim ankle, white fancy, stretched t-shirt with strange print and very wide neck, which if it was great on a number of dimensions, and therefore exposed collarbone with the outline of the tattoo. Walking past him, Harry picks up in the air a pleasant smell, but can’t understand what it is. Fruit? Something definitely sweet. When they come up, the stranger looks up at him and pulls his mask over his face, so Harry doesn't really have time to see him. The mask shows a smiley face with crosses instead of eyes. Harry holds look at it for another couple of seconds, before he turns away and continues on his way, the guy winks at him and passes by.

A bit discouraged, Harry comes to his room and puts guitar in a corner. Who is this guy? Why hadn't he seen him before? Why did he wink at him? Now in his head a whole bunch of questions. Deciding that he will deal with this later, Harry comes to the cart with drugs and begins to arrange everything as he needs. Having spent about 10-15 minutes on it, he smiles, satisfied with the result of his efforts. Harry changes into comfortable cotton pants and a t-shirt with The Rolling Stones logo and pulls the guitar out of the case. The heavy tool warms his hand nicely as he walks to bed. He climbs onto it with his feet and makes himself comfortable. A few seconds later the muffled sound of music echoes through the hospital corridor.


	2. 2

**“No curiosity can ultimately be satisfied unless one can check by touching with one's hands.”**

**Kobe Abe**

All over the ward there are things scattered around: on the back of the chair near the table a whole mountain of hoodies are piled up, pencils and crumpled sheets of paper with unsuccessful drawings are scattered on the table. On the floor near the table is a deflated soccer ball, a skateboard and a broken table tennis racket. The open suitcase is left at the foot of the bed and looks as if a mini-bomb exploded there: all the things are thrown together, and several pairs of shoes are thrown on top.

The creator of all this mess is lying on the bed and listening to music at such a high volume that it can be heard even through headphones. He taps his foot to the rhythm of the music, dancing a little as far as his position allows him. In his hands there is a small notebook in which he draws with concentration, biting the tip of his tongue. Because of the music, he doesn't notice that the door in room has opened and the nurse has come in. She slowly approaches him from the side and looks expectantly at him, but he still continues to draw and doesn’t even see her. Then she waves her hand in front of his face, drawing attention. The guy reluctantly looks up from the drawing and looks at Mary standing by his bed.

"What?" he asks with tight lips.

Mary shakes her head and indicates he should take off his headphones. The guy is obviously unhappy that someone has distracted him, but he reluctantly pulls out one earphone.

"May I help you, Miss?"

"Stop squirming, Louis, or I'll give you a lean diet" Mary says, handing him a glass of pills.

"You always just scare me" Louis laughs, taking the medication.

"You think so?" she raises an eyebrow and looks at him.

"Well, you know, something tells me it's better not to mess with you today" Louis says and washes down the pills with juice that is always on his bedside table.

"How many times have I told you to take the pills with water?" Mary says irritably, and takes the empty cup. "You are unbearable, Louis."

"Oh, thanks for the compliment" he laughs.

"You think that's a compliment?"

"Of cause, isn’t it?"

Mary doesn’t comment on his last words but silently takes his medical card and makes notes in it.

"How long do I have to take these pills?" Louis asks in interest.

"Another three weeks," she says.

"Exhausting" he sighs heavily and leans back on his pillows. "It's exhausting."

"If I were in your place, I'd take my treatment more seriously."

"Experimental treatment" Louis corrects her. "Maybe it won't work and we're wasting our time."

"What if it does work?"

"We'll see in three weeks" Louis says, and puts the earpiece back on, showed that the conversation is over.

*******

Cystic fibrosis. When you have this disease, life becomes a routine. You need to get up in the morning and cough (and you’re lucky if it takes no more than ten minutes — sometimes you have to spend at the sink for half an hour, and it is very tiring and draining). Then inhalation. Wherever you are, whatever you do, in whatever condition you are, this step can’t be skipped. If you are not at home, then for such cases there are portable inhalers, on which people look very askance, thinking that this is another kind of hookah. Often people are afraid of patients with cystic fibrosis, because they think that they can get infected when people with this illnesses cough or even just breathe the same air with them. But, ironically — people are far more dangerous to the sick. All patients with cystic fibrosis are thin, so they need additional help. In the evening, if there is a need, you need to connect an artificial power supply. Fortunately not every day, but only when you start losing weight. Nutrition occurs through the stoma — gastroscopic tube, through which the body gets micronutrients that are not assimilated during normal meals.

Being sick is expensive — you need devices, consumables, inhalation drugs, enzymes for digestion of food, pills for abdominal pain, antibiotics, probiotics, vitamins. But they help you to live.

However, the most dangerous thing that can happen to a patient with cystic fibrosis is b. cepacia — an infection in which the lungs begin to rot, subsequently ceasing to function. With this infection, life expectancy is reduced to a couple of years, and in some cases up to several months.

Louis has b. cepacia. He was on the list for lung transplantation, but one day he was hospitalized with a sharp deterioration. Then the doctors diagnosed the worst. This damn infection. His name was immediately struck off the list for donation. They offered experimental treatment. Louis had no other choice.

He used to visit the hospital once or twice a year, but now he almost never leaves it. His friends, Liam and Zayn, often come to visit him — he doesn't feel so alone and awfully when they come. But when Louis is left alone, all the thoughts in his head only about whether or not he will survive to his twenty-fifth birthday. Everyday routine depresses him, so he often skips medication, just flushing the damn pills down the toilet. Louis knows that it impairs his health, but he's not really worried about it. He prefers to spend time with benefit for himself or, as he says for _the soul_. He draws. His whole room completely covered with various sketches, doodles, and comical images of the people from the hospital.

Louis often goes outside the hospital to kick the ball around or ride on his skateboard. The doctors scold him, but he doesn't care. He's already a walking dead man. It can't get any worse.

His mom and sisters often come to visit Louis and he is always happy to see them. In their presence, Louis seemed to forget that he didn’t have much time left, and just enjoy the conversation. Lottie (the eldest of his sisters) often writes him messages about everything that happens in her life, starting with what she ate for breakfast and ending with funny photos of twins: Doris and Ernest. Family is the only thing that gives Louis the strength to move on and fight. Family is everything for him.

Even more often than his family, he is visited by Zayn and Liam — his best friends since childhood. Before Louis transferred to home schooling, he went to a regular school, and Zayn and Liam were his classmates from the first year. Later, Louis often went with them to parties that were arranged by popular students and for which he certainly received a scolding from his mother, although it never stopped him. The three of them often played football in the backyard of Louis ' house, and despite of his condition, he always beat both of them. Today, as usual, the guys tell him about what is happening in their lives: that they bought an apartment and now equip it on their own, what is happening at their work and that they are thinking about having a child. Louis becomes a little sad, because he never be able to have his own. He just doesn't have times.

Zayn draws too. Liam was so thrilled and enthused about the fact that they have Zayn' drawings at their house and asks Louis to draw something for them. Louis laughed it off asking why they need his doodles, although in his head already appears a couple of ideas for drawing. They probably don't put it on the wall or will be removed every time their parents will come to their house, because it will be terribly embarrassing. But that's Louis.

When the guys leave, Lou decides go to the roof of the hospital, where he often spends time watching the city and the sun setting over the horizon. He often gets inspired when he’s drawing here. Coming out of the room, Louis notices the guy who goes towards to him. He's tall and has curly hair that is in such a careless mess which makes him seem even more charming. He is wearing a white, time-worn t-shirt (in some places there are few holes) and an absolutely absurd blue Hawaiian shirt with palm trees. And his mask! Is that really a Hello Kitty face on it? Adorable. Louis notices the guy looking up at him as he puts on his mask. Louis doesn’t know why but he winks at him and walks past, heading for the elevator. The last thing he notices is the puzzled look of the curly-haired guy.

*******

Hanging his feet from the edge of the roof, Louis looks at the night city. Los Angeles is beautiful, especially at night. Thousands of street lights create a light cupola over the city, as if enveloping it. Not far from the hospital, just 10-15 minutes by car, there is an ocean. Louis often runs there when he gets tired of being in the hospital and swims, although it is strictly prohibited. While lying in the water, he feels free. He feels alive. The ocean envelops him, shielding him from the world. Mary scolds him every time. She says that he is irresponsible and can easily catch an infection that will worsen his already bad condition. But Louis doesn't care.

He's listening to music again. Louis plays the “Catfish and the Bottlemen” album on repeat. Not so long ago, Zayn got tickets to their concert, which was in one of the bars in Los Angeles. That night was one of most memorable in this year. Louis takes a deep breath and continues to draw while the song "7"is playing.

*******

Music is an important part of Harry's life. Since he can’t study at the University because of his illness, he dedicate all his free time to music. Harry writes songs. It started as a hobby. Harry sometimes sang his own songs to a circle of relatives and friends. Nothing would have changed before the day when Gemma sent his demo in one of the recording studios. And who would have thought that they liked his songs so much that company would offer Harry work. When he came to the interview, he immediately told them about his illness and explained that he couldn’t constantly work in the office. Harry was sure that he would be refused, but they offered him the chance to work remotely. Harry sends them e-mails with everything that he records and sometimes visits the recording studio to hear his songs performed live. He was given a chance to sing them himself, but for a number of reasons it just wasn’t possible. But Harry is so excited about his work. He still sings to relatives and friends, arrange mini-concerts at home. And that's enough for him.

And now, sitting at the table, Harry’s writings another song, but for the last half an hour he can't move further than first verse. Realizing that today it is useless, Harry closes his leather diary and puts it in a drawer. When he reaches to turn off the lamp, through the window he sees a guy sitting on the edge of the roof, thoughtfully dangling his legs. Suddenly he straightens up on the parapet, putting aside his things, and closes his eyes. Harry's heart stops beating. He is terribly high up, and he stands there like nothing had happened. He stands there with his eyes closed and his arms outstretched. Harry, without a second thought, runs from his room and ran heading towards the elevator. A few more flights of stairs, and he is on the roof. It's getting harder to get up, his breath is knocked out, and he starts coughing. Not now, not a bloody attack! He opens the door and approaches the guy who still standing on the parapet with his eyes closed. Harry recognizes him. It was guy which he saw this afternoon, the one who winked at him. He freezes, not knowing what to do.

"Hey!" he shouts, but the guy doesn’t react.

Harry notices the headphones and realizes that he is probably doesn’t heard him.

"Hey, can you hear me?" Harry screams again, but this time a little louder.

Apparently, at that moment, the song that was playing from his phone was quieter, and the guy turns to him. A smile immediately appears on his face as he pulls out his headphones.

"Hi!" Louis says. His voice is so loud that it cuts through the silence.

"Are you crazy?" Harry says excitedly, on the verge of panic.

"No. Doesn’t look like normal, huh?" Louis asks in surprise.

"You... just, you are standing on 48th floor and... and I saw you through the window, your eyes they... they were closed" Harry starts to jabbering, breathless from the thrill.

"Hey, just breathe" Louis says, trying to calm Harry down. "It's okay, it’s all under control."

"Are you so sure about that?" there's still a hint of panic in his voice.

"You'd feel better if I came down, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, please."

Louis smiles at him and holds out his hand. Harry looks at him uncomprehending.

"Don’t you want to give me a hand?" Louis asks and smiles slyly at him.

"Ha-ha! Very funny" grumbles Harry.

"Ah, there are no more gentlemen left in our time" Louis sighs sadly and jumps from the parapet to the roof.

As he jumps, Harry notices how tiny the guy is. And how thin. He's still wearing that beanie, but instead of a sweatshirt, this time he wears a huge knitted jumper and Harry thinks its two or three sizes too big for him.

"It is what it is" says Harry, and takes a step back as Louis approaches to him. Harry notices that the smile fades from guys face.

"Interesting quote" Louis grins, rubbing his collarbone through the fabric of his sweater. "I'm Louis, by the way."

Harry stares at him.

"This is where you're supposed to introduce yourself" he says, looking expectantly at the curly one. "At least that's the etiquette."

Harry still stays silent. His thoughts are floating around, hard to grasp. He thinks about how much this guy is shorter than him and that if he could get closer, he would probably be lower than his shoulder.

"Hey, earth calling, over!"

Harry hears the stranger's voice and the veil falls from his eyes. He blinks a few times and looks at the guy.

"I'm Harry" he says, looking at Louis.

"Nice to meet you, Harry" Louis stretches his name as if tasting it.

Louis holds out his hand for a handshake, and Harry looks at him sternly.

"Oh, I see, you have a good sense of humor, Louis" Harry says.

"Not without it, but just so you know, everyone loves my sense of humor and loves my jokes."

Harry can’t help but smiles at him. On his cheeks immediately appear dimples, and Louis terribly wants to poke at them with his finger. This guy is charming.

"You should tell that for yourself more often, maybe it will be the true" laughs curly, taking a few steps back and grabbing the handle of the door leading to the stairs.

"Ouch" Louis exclaims. "Your words have offended me a little, Harold."

"I'm Harry, not Harold" Harry frowns when he hears what Louis called him.

"Hmm, I thought it was your name, no?" laughs Louis and turns to the parapet, to gathers his stuffs.

"You're hearing things"

"I haven't complained about my hearing lately. Well, maybe I should see a doctor or something."

"It's never too late" Harry says and opens the door. "I can't say I was very pleased to meet you, Louis."

"Twice this evening you hurt my feelings" Louis exclaims dramatically. "I don't know how I'll survive!"

"You can do it" Harry laughs and starts go down the stairs.

"Good night, Harold" Louis yells after him.

"I'm Harry!" a muffled voice is heard from behind the closed door, and the last thing that Harry hears is Louie's laughter, from the roof.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would appreciate if you leave comments! It's very important for me;)

**Author's Note:**

> I would appreciate if you leave comments! It's very important for me;)


End file.
